


Five Lives

by Void



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dystopia, Intersexuality, Masturbation, Motorcycles, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void/pseuds/Void
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You would think that one would know what to do with all these chances, but all he knew how to do was throw them away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stars

He had five lives.

His fate was sealed when he was hit by a speeding motorcycle on the eve of his nineteenth birthday. Having driven his own blue Honda out to the edge of the water to watch the moonrise, he could still feel the warm ghost of his girlfriend’s body against his side as they wandered back out into the roadway to his bike. She always smiled up at him with those big, stupid brown eyes like a deer with a fetish for headlights and he thought she was the most innocent thing in the world.

But of course, things are never as they appear. She pushed him toward the other motorcycle when she saw it wasn’t breaking correctly. He could still remember the way her silhouette danced away from the scene in the moonlight while he lay pinned beneath the heavy machine, dying. He grew introverted after this first death- having lost most his pride after pulling his bloodied body out from beneath a busted bike, crawling down the road sobbing for help until he collapsed from exhaustion.

That was when his eyes became stars.

A five pointed, red star replaced his pupil after that incident. It was ugly to him, strange and stupid looking.  
Nobody looked him in the eye long enough to tell if the stars were just some stupid contact lenses or if they were real, serious mutations like those freaks in housing sector H suffered with. He didn’t live too far from them, the hive housing in sector F was just as terrible as the places they dwelled. His ‘apartment’ was the size of a closet, literally, and it only cost him fifty credits a month- which was really all it was worth anyway. He didn’t mind that one occupant and a bed barely fit in the place, or that he had to share a communal toilet with the entire rest of the fifth floor. Life was life, and he would live it until all the points on his stars faded out.

Which they would, eventually. 

He was not the only one; there were a handful of others with these ‘eye stars’ that passed around tales of madness- with each point lost on the star due to a critical injury, the descent toward full-on mental psychosis grew more rapid. Eventually, the points would fade with age if he wasn’t wounded; it was an uphill battle either way. More information would need to be collected for validity; he’d need to find the others at some point, just like he needed a new seat for the bike and a new job.  
Who was he kidding? He’d never go out looking for the other freaks.

If they wanted him, they could come and find him- he was in the population registry somewhere.

All they needed to do was look.


	2. Chapter 2

The clang of pipes next door was not as distracting as the wafting smell of cigarette smoke from a room away. The couple that lived there were arguing about the lack of space, the lack of money, the absence of love in the relationship that he couldn’t help hearing about every night they were home. 

Upstairs, the capsule apartment contained a mother and a child stomping left and right. He spoke to the mother once, a sad woman who had her husband killed in the government’s army. The child was only a few weeks old then, sickened by pollution and malnourishment at birth. He pitied her, tossed her whatever extra money he had on hand and she told him she didn’t need pity like this from a college student.

The sounds and memories floated around him like and ocean of white noise. His body felt heavy, swollen almost, but it was all from the length of the day. There’d been a gang fight; his motorcycle was caught in the midst of it. They didn’t realize that he defected from his old group, and when they attacked him with knifes and bats, they didn’t realize he had his stun rods on him.

Yeah, Government Issue tasers, a prize won from being in a bike gang for long enough to brag that you’d taken down a municipal official with your bare hands.

Now, after having eaten whatever he could scrape up for cheap at the cooked meal stands dotting the main avenue, he lay splayed on his tiny bed with a hand pressed against the cool wall opposite of the mattress. Most clothing had been shed off upon closing the front door; all that was left was a white teeshirt and a pair of black boxers. He intended to get some rest, but a familiar ache stopped him from managing.

The swelling arose in him again, a thick, syrupy kind of high that made him dizzy and tired and worst of all, acutely aware of the fact that he was alone. His body was too different to be considered attractive, and his eyes scared people off before his words could give them a real reason to. The rest of his gang had never noticed him being any different physically. All they saw was the sculpted chest and abdomen beneath the leather jacket, the strong chords of muscle in his arms, all masculine slicked back greaser looking lies that made the bikers oblivious of what was really below his waist. He would lie to them, when they went off with their girlfriends and he saw their shadows blend into one mass, when they kissed over the tops of the shining chrome gas tanks, he saw what he’d never be able have with a woman or a man. 

It was sickening.

He was cursed in his loneliness, and his body wished for the exact opposite. Hands, mouths, anything- the dreams about being together with blurred faces didn’t leave him on nights like these, and it didn’t help that the couple next door was procreating audibly against the wall.

He was already wet, the sensation between his thighs making him press his legs together tight, lift up a knee and smooth a calloused hand down his stomach to the top of his boxers. He had a single item for this kind of activity, thick silicone that was tucked secretly beneath the shitty fraying mattress. He would get it when he needed, but for now, he let himself free of his boxers and dipped his fingers into his own warm opening. The muscles greeting his eagerness with a little clench, clearly hungry for more than just the little relief. He was on his hands and knees then, stomach pressed against the mattress with one hand shoved up beneath his shirt to roll a pert nipple while his other hand fingered himself a bit more eagerly, scissoring and rubbing at a swollen clitoris. The sounds next door widdled down to soft whimpering, and he found himself digging underneath the mattress for something to fill his body in the pregnant silence.

He licked the head of the toy, knowing that he was wet enough for a dildo to slide in easy. It was positioned beneath him a moment later, the thick mushroom shape of the tip pressing feather light against the lips of his vagina like the worst kind of tease. His fingers rubbed at himself and his hips eased downward, breath hitching. 

Suddenly, There was a knock on the door; he felt his arousal vanish in a single exhale.

“Hey man, You in there?” The voice was warm and familiar, his stomach felt as if it was clawing a way up his throat and into his mouth as he scrambled for clothing. “It’s Leukas. You remember me? You gotta.” 

Yeah, Leuk, Leader of the gang after he’d defected, currently dating his ex girlfriend- yeah, the same one that killed him the first time. He remembered before, being close to the choppy haired blonde man, the friendly pat on the shoulder and kick to the tire, the laughter that would echo in the street after a quick race for spare cash.  
The press of the blonde’s leg between his thighs and the whisper of curses against his ear, a threat, stay away from my girl or I’ll fuck you up, star eye freak.

He didn’t understand why Leuk got so angry after he left, figured it was their friendship and the fact that his ex was now secured beneath his friend’s arm. There’s been some weird tension between them, but he never thought the other would let it crest on such a malicious note. They didn't see each other after the confrontation, and he couldn't find any reason why the other man would want to speak to him now in the first place, especially if the bikers were now under his wing. They were teenagers, and would never sit still for very long. 

There was a deep breath on the other side of the metal, “Open the fucking door, man, I need to …. I need to talk to someone right now.” He managed to yank on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, arranging the bed sheets as close to normal as possible before pulling the door open and seeing those same, tired dark eyes he remembered before. Leukas looked strangely feminine to him, but it was just a manifestation of helplessness that made him appear gentler to the eyes of the ex-gang member.

He shook his head, the ghost of a smile falling away from his features” Thanks, thank you.” He moved aside, letting the blonde in and letting the door shut behind the both of them on its own.


End file.
